


we begin further back than we think

by The-Immortal-Moon (LunaKat)



Series: Of Gearheaded Geeks and Alchemy Freaks (EdWin Week 2019) [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: EdWin Week 2019, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaKat/pseuds/The-Immortal-Moon
Summary: For EdWin Week 2019. Day 1: FirstsAs they grow older and patterns repeat to the point where they become routine, it grows difficult to discern where, exactly, the starting points began.





	we begin further back than we think

Ed’s first word to her was, according to Granny, “Mine!”

Of course, it’s important to note that at the time, they were both a little over two and engaged in the riveting task of stacking blocks to create fantastical constructions. Apparently Winry’s towers was more colorful and creative and so Ed, contentious even as a toddler, snatched a particularly brightly-colored cornerstone from her construction. The whole thing toppled, she cried, and Ed shrieked with outrage when her parents then tried to gently extricate the stolen toy from his grasp.

It would be three months later until they saw each other again—or at least however long it was until Winry was convinced her pigtails wouldn’t fall out from Ed tugging at them too hard.

* * *

The first time they met after what was dubbed the “block scandal”, it was because Winry’s dad was coming over to the Elric house to give the brothers a check up and Winry was apparently very insistent about tagging along, tugging at his pantlegs and pouting and going please daddy, please? Granny says that as much as she loves her son, he was soft at heart and ultimately caved and she had the time of her life skipping down the road at his side.

Upon meeting Ed again, it was evident that neither of them remembered each other. Or if they did, they just didn’t connect one another’s faces to the block incident. Instead, they were able to sit quietly on the floor scribbling nonsensical masterpieces upon paper in relative peace. Aunt Trisha even came in later and noted with some surprise how well they were getting along—though again, Winry doesn’t remember this.

It lasted right up until she accidentally grabbed one of Ed’s crayons—and then it escalated until they were throwing things at one another. As the adults pulled them apart, it was speculated that they were probably destined to never get along.

* * *

It seemed like the last they’d see of each other but, it was just another first waiting to happen.

Sometime after Mr. Hohenheim vanished into thin air, but sometime before Aunt Trisha succumbed to illness, Ed and Al came over to their place. The circumstances are blurry, according to Granny, but what is distinct is the fact that Winry roped the brothers into a rather epic game of playing house. One that, apparently, also involved wrenches and alchemy and a pet dragon that was brought to life by Den’s puppy self.

Ed complained quite loudly throughout the whole endeavor, protesting that he did not want to be the husband, this whole thing was _stupid_ , and he was never gonna marry a dumb girl like her. She exclaimed exasperatedly to a table of their doll-children that fine, she wouldn’t want to married to a jerk like him either!

Al apologized later, said that his brother was just moody lately and she seemed nice, maybe they should play again sometime. And they did—even if she and Ed usually ended up fighting. And Ed always ended up forced into the role of Winry’s husband, much to their collective displeasure.

* * *

Their first meeting without an undercurrent of conflict occurred on their first day of school. On that day, Winry was walked down the winding path with her mom’s hand grasped in her own and quivering at the idea of being left alone in a room full of strangers for a whole day. Granny says later that Winry thought the teacher was plenty nice and so were most of the other kids, but she wanted to go back to her house and it felt like prison to be forced to stay somewhere she didn’t want to be, no matter how nice everyone was.

It was at lunchtime when she started crying, because she wouldn’t get to eat lunch with Mom and Dad and Granny like normal. Either by coincidence or fate, Ed and Al were sitting at the desk across from her—she was more than surprised to find a sandwich shoved under her nose and Ed’s scowling face in hers.

“If I give you this, will you stop crying?”

She blinked at him, sniffing. “M-Maybe?”

Huffing, he dropped the sandwich in front of her, then turned back to his bewildered brother. She chewed it slowly, hiccupping and wiping her nose and gradually stopped crying, according to what the teacher told Granny later.

When the bell finally rang, he sought her out, grabbed her by the wrist, and ignored her yelps as she marched him down the path that led to the edge of town, where they both lived. Without saying a single word and steadfastly ignoring the looks of utter bewilderment that Al, trailing behind them, kept aiming at his back, Ed deposited her on the crossroad between their two houses.

Peering out the window, Granny caught Winry’s attempts to stutter out a thank you interrupted by Ed’s loudly declaring that she was a crybaby, then turning on his heel and marching back to his own house like a man on a mission. She glanced at Al in askance, but he only shrugged and hastened to follow after his older brother.

Winry was so, so confused afterwards and asked Granny if that meant she was friends with Ed now. Granny asked,  _haven’t you always been?_  And Winry thought for a moment, shrugged, and said, _huh, guess so._

* * *

The first time she saw Ed hurt was when they were playing around in the playing around in the automail workshop— _where they weren’t supposed to_ , Granny insists quite fiercely—and Ed accidentally cut himself on something.

How and what, they don’t know. But he made a big fuss about it, not so much crying as whimpering and trying to staunch the bleeding by wrapping his shirt around his gushing palm and curling up in the corner like a wounded animal. Al started to panicked because it was quite a lot of blood, enough to seep redly into the shirt fabric, and anyone that young in that situation would surely panic.

Not Winry, though. She marched upstairs, retrieved a cloth and disinfectant and some bandages, then practically snatched Ed’s arm in an attempt to get at the injury. He growled and let out little curses that he was far too young to know every time she pressed disinfectant to the cut, but she retorted that if a crybaby like her could endure it, then so could he.

He buttoned his lip and let her tend to him.

After she bound up the wound—rather sloppily, granted, and it needed to be rebound later—she scolded him for getting himself hurt in the first place. He demanded to know why she cared. She called him an idiot.

“I bet you’d die without me,” Winry had huffed, to which Ed balked.

After that, Winry started carrying bandages and plasters and disinfectant in her rucksack, because heavens know Ed got into fights defending his brother. Winry justified it by saying that it was just in case Ed hurt himself  _again_ , but—that was where it first started.

* * *

These things fade into the hazy obscurity of their collective memories. As they grow older and patterns repeat to the point where they become routine, it grows difficult to discern where, exactly, the starting points began. From whence those precedents were set, and how things came to be, and how they evolved from that initial beginning.

All they know is that they are the way they are, borne from their own childish stupidity to find something stronger and more enduring, something that binds them together so strongly and surely that it cannot be unbroken. All they know is that their firsts became nexts, and their lives moved forward unceasingly, and then surged forward until it culminated on the platform of a train station—a question posed with none of the tradition usually attached, no rings or going down on one knee or even the traditional wording. And really, what kind of  _idiot_  asks someone to marry them using scientific principles? That’s just downright _embarrassing_.

But regardless, here they are, on the cusp of a whole new world filled with firsts and starts. With her wearing all-white for the first time, and him stumbling through vows for the first time, and then for the first time slipping rings over each other’s fingers. Their consummating kiss is not the first—but it feels like it should be.

Everything is absolutely beautiful, wreathed in promises of a better future, something bright and shining and falling over them like a spotlight. It will be the first—and hopefully last—time they are ever husband and wife to another.

Then someone decides it’s a good idea to let Granny have the mic.

Granny, who seems to have had a little too much to drink and is a little tipsy and starts unearthing all their childhood stupidity before the congregation of guests. Starts talking about the blocks, and the crayons, and the walk home from school and the bloody hand. And all the childish little things that they were quite content to leave in the past, because looking back, it’s almost as embarrassing as that completely unorthodox proposal.

By the end of it, Ed is sputtering and Winry feels her face turn bright red and Paninya chokes on her drink while Al keeps clearing his throat to contain his snickering.

Just when they think it’s done, Granny pauses, then concludes with a cheeky, “And to think this all started because Ed over there looked at my granddaughter and said ‘Mine!’.”

Winry’s jaw falls open. Ed hides his face in his hands. Paninya  _screeches_  in laughter and Al nearly falls out of his seat.

One thing’s for certain—this will the first ( _and last_ ) time they allow Granny to give a speech while tipsy.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse.


End file.
